


Wilder Nights at Home

by howlittleweare



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blood, But only a little, Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, I'll tag as I go, M/M, Minor Violence, Pining, Sheith Week 2016, Shiro gets angry, Training, post episode 11, probaly too much time spent in the infirmary, technological malfunctions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-23 22:53:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8345938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howlittleweare/pseuds/howlittleweare
Summary: After the wormhole incident, no one is completely all right. Especially Keith and Shiro. An attempt at a character/relationship study using each prompt from Sheith Week 2016 to (hopefully) make a coherent story.Day 1: Hurt/ComfortDay 2: Together/AloneDay 3: Fight me/Love meDay 4: Flashback/ RealitySLOW UPDATES/ SEMI-HIATUS...





	1. Day 1: Hurt/Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to itdans on tumblr for talking me into attempting to do a fandom week. I haven't written in a year, but I really wanted to get back into it but lacked the motivation/ courage for writing for a new fandom.
> 
> This is unbeta'd, so I'm sorry for any typos. Let me know, and I'll try to fix them. Title from "The Draw" by Bastille, which in my opinion, gives the feel of what I'm attempting to reach with this project.

“You’re an idiot”

It startles Keith out of his thoughts. He’d been watching Shiro wrap his bruised and bloody knuckles. Now the older man was holding onto Keith’s wrist, firmly but gently, and he was looking at Keith. He was angry, Keith could tell, but not enough to yell or lose his composure. He never did. It almost bothered Keith, because he knew he would always loose his temper. He would. When they were alone, as they were now, he talked to him like normal. It felt almost like it used to. Back _before_.

They had only been back a week, the whole team returned safe and sound for the most part, when Keith threw himself into training. If they thought he trained way too much before, now he ate, slept, and breathed training. Keith hardly even changed out of his sweaty clothes to take a shower and eat some food goo before going back to the training deck without a word to the others.

He wasn’t trying to avoid anyone, honestly, it was just that Keith had a goal he was set on and this time he couldn’t be kept from reaching

He guessed it made sense that the only thing to make him brake was his own body. Exhaustion, malnutrition, anger and guilt were starting to wear Keith down after days of fitting extra training time between group training, solo training, extracurricular training, and more training. Keith felt it in every step, felt it when he breathed, and it drove him harder.

But after today, someone would definitely put a stop to him. Maybe thats what he wanted- No. It's not.

Keith had set the gladiator to the highest setting he had taken on so far. It kept him on his toes and constantly dodging blows and slashes. He couldn’t even get his own attacks in, his sword hanging uselessly by his side. If Keith got a chance to slow down, his vision began to blur, so he stayed close to it within striking range and worked on his defense. Shiro was watching from the observation deck, a habit he’d formed around the same time Keith started extra training. His brow was furrowed and his arms crossed unhappily, even Keith could see from down on the floor. But however Shiro felt about his training didn’t matter as long as he wasn’t stopping him. Keith’s chest burned on the inside from exhausted lungs and on the outside with the pull of bruised muscles. He'd been knocked around pretty good the past few days. These damn gladiators were smart and searched for openings, something he should be doing.

Keith was able to get a swing in, aiming for the dominant arm to disarm it (albeit temporarily), but the gladiator ducked under him and jabbed Keith in his exposed side. He hissed and jumped away, already feeling the swelling from the sharp stab and shock the gladiators’ weapons gave. Shiro hadn’t moved from the observation room, but then again, Keith wasn’t paying attention enough to keep track of _him_.

Across the training deck the drone stood still, scanning and calculating an attack, Keith supposed. He kept an eye on it and switched his bayard into his left hand. He was working on becoming ambidextrous, but now he was putting that on hold just to focus on defeating this high level gladiator.

For a second his vision lost sight of the gladiator. 

He was looking right at it, but the white armor blurred and blended into the white platted walls of the room. It was there, and suddenly everything was white. The pale seeped into the grated floor, stealing away the cool gray of the floor and the blue lights that accent the walls. His ears felt like the were underwater. He couldn’t hear anything but his own breathing, which, _he wasn’t breathing_. This wasn’t right. This shouldn’t happen.

He’d felt this before. His skin moving and shifting. His bones feeling like they’re too heavy at the same time not even there. Everything was so bright, or he couldn’t see. He could see the light, or he couldn't see the dark. Which was it? What was the difference? What was there to draw a line between real and not? _He wasn’t breathing-_

Keith took a horribly painful and deep breath, reality rushing back to him. His chest ached as he exhaled, and suddenly there was the gladiator. Right in front of him.

He’d jumped back to avoid its strike, but he slipped on a slick of his own sweat, his back jolting with the impact of the floor. Keith tried to swing his sword up to parry the gladiator’s pike but it shifted, its fast foot stepping onto Keith’s hand before he could pull it up. He heard the crack as it put pressure down, his fingers curled around the bayard pressing hard into the metal and floor. A few seconds ago he couldn't necessarily feel anything, now he felt. and it _hurt. Oh, God is it broken? shi-_

“End sequence!” He’d dully heard someone shout, the throbbing of his brain tuning out most of what was going on. As soon as the gladiator was shut off, the pressure off his hand, Keith dropped his sword and curled his arm into his chest.

Allura had changed the setting of the gladiators. Essentially turned off their “child safety lock.” Coran explained that as Paladins in the middle of a war, they needed to get used to pain, learn how to deal with it, and move on. “We have healing pods for a reason,” Allura had deadpanned when Lance complained about breaking a bone or something. The training bots wouldn’t kill, but they sure didn’t pull their punches. Keith’s bloody fingers could attest to that.

 

Now he sat in the infirmary, only yards away from a fully functioning and ready to go healing pod (yet for some reason not in it), while Shiro stood closely. He held Keith's left wrist in his hand, right where the gauze and tape stopped. He took a deep breath. “You can’t do this-“

Keith rolled his eyes and huffed. Shiro stopped abruptly, narrowed his eyes. “Stop.” He snapped. Great, Keith was going to get another lecture. He couldn’t give lectures. Keith was too awkward with words. Shiro was good with words. He had a way of talking that could convince anyone anything. His anger didn't make him any less persuasive. “You can’t keep going like this. It isn’t safe for you or for the team.” 

Keith knew this, he didn’t think about, he never did, but he _knew_ this. Thats why Keith wasn’t ready, he couldn’t be. Not now, not ever. He wasn’t fit for this. He needed to think about the team, for the team. But he _couldn’t_. Shiro’s tone was serious and unforgiving. It couldn’t be forgiving or soft, even if he wanted it to be. It was his duty. _Was._

Keith closed his eyes, if only to get a break from Shiro’s unrelenting gaze. Only then did he realize how tired he felt. How sore his arms and legs felt, how his body sagged with each breath.The wonder of Altean medicine (not including the healing pods) had much alternative healing pills that did a hell of a job for the pain but worked slower than a pod. His hand was healing at least. He thought for a minute of the wormhole. How he felt like a star collapsing in on itself, and he started to feel the same as he did in the training room. 

A hand softly carded into his hair, though, which distracted him. “I don’t know why you’re doing this. But please, stop. You can’t carry on like this. Do it for the team. Do it for me. Please, Keith.” Shiro said softly, speaking into Keith hair, once he had slumped face first into Shiro’s chest. He ran his fingers through Keith’s hair, working knots outs carefully. Keith was surprised by how soft he was being, almost like _before_. He brought his hands slowly, softly, skittishly to rest on Shiro's waist.

But it wasn’t before. Things couldn’t be more different than it was.

But he allowed himself to pretend. For a just a second. Because he _couldn’t_.


	2. Day 2: Together/Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotdammit. I was one day in and already got behind.
> 
> I'm sorry this is late. I put off writing this chapter until late at night, and then I couldn't seem to get it right. I was writing and writing, but I wasn't happy with it and couldn't see where I was going with it. So I closed the page and went to sleep. Today I had to scrap nearly 1,000 words about each of the paladin's experiences after the wormhole problem, because I reminded myself that this is Sheith week, so I started over.
> 
> I'm more happy with this one than the original "together/alone" prompt I wrote. I hope you like it too.

Shiro let his head fall back against against the cushion of the couch for just a second. His eyes slipped closed, the sterile-looking environment of the lounge was unable to keep his interest as he sagged with exhaustion.

Training had been rough the past couple days, with Pidge finally getting out of the healing pod and the rest of the paladins slowly rehabilitating. Each of them had their own way of recovering, but they needed to recover as a team as well.

He could hear Lance and Keith arguing over something down the hall, but the automated door muffled their voices enough to ignore them. With these rare moments to himself, a fragile lull in their usually busy lives, Shiro let his mind wander. He reviewed his itinerary for the rest of day, what priorities needed to get done and what could potentially be put off, and he thought of training later that afternoon. He _could_ postpone it, the team was still a shaky shell of what they were before the wormhole tore them apart and they had been trying as hard as they can. He needed to make sure they could handle the training without straining themselves. Protecting his team was most important.

Well, they _were_ his team.

It was still a touchy subject. He’d only really talked about it with Allura and Coran. Stepping down from being the black paladin, he meant. Keith still fumed and escaped to the training room if it was brought up, and he didn’t want to think about how the rest of the team would react to it. He couldn’t tell them yet, not while they were still nursing their own wounds. They didn’t deserve to deal with his demons, too.

Shiro thought back to the desolate planet he and Keith had been stranded on for three weeks. He could almost taste the hot, muggy air on his tongue, see the tiger striped trees that grew in knots. He could remember their camp, a foxhole dug out underneath the jut of Black’s jaw where they rested or hid from the bright sun.

Compared to the others, Keith and Shiro came out of the terrible weeks with little damage. That why he couldn’t tell them that Black had rejected him. That she shut down and wouldn’t let him in. That her presence in his mind had retracted and now left an empty husk next to the shadowed grove of a forgotten year.

It was sickening when he first woke up after the crash, his brain feeling constricted within his own skull, like it would leak out of his ears if he tilted his head to the side.

Keith had wrapped his uninjured arm around Shiro’s soldier as they sat in silence that night, tucking Shiro's head under his chin. The forest near them was quiet, like a held breath. An absence of noise that you only notice once it’s gone, just like Black’s confident presence. She was no longer there to calm him or talk sense into him.

Red had crash landed miles away, and it had taken a few days for Keith to follow the distress signal and find Shiro, so it was just them. Just the two of them for however it took for Allura to find them. Shiro didn’t feel comfortable leaving Black alone, not when he couldn’t hear her if someone came to take her, and not while her power was down. She couldn’t even form a bubble field around her.

Something was _wrong_ , and he couldn’t figure out what.

The first day Shiro was a total mess, his thoughts plagued him of Zarkon. He had taken Black from him, ripped her from his mind and turned her against him. And now… now Shiro couldn’t connect to her.

Keith understood that Shiro wasn’t really _there_ , and gave him space. He kept his distance while still keeping Shiro in sight. Keith stripped the trees at the edge of the forest of their branches and leaves, scavenged supplies, built a camp around his friend and kept himself busy despite his right arm fractured an in a sling. The sunset on this planet set the horizon ablaze with green fire, a strange smell of sulfur filled the air at dusk.

They sat around a fire Keith made and ate ration bars in silence. Shiro stared into the fire, the alien wood melting in the heat. When he was finished eating he laid down on his side and fell asleep.

The next day he was recovering, managing small words to Keith who happily replied but didn’t push for conversation. Keith led Shiro into the forest, weaving between branches and ducking under vines. They came to a river that flowed uphill; there they waded in the cool water and washed the dried blood rom their skin and hair. Keith had been more badly banged up than Shiro, a scab that would surely scar on Keith’s forehead was red and tender to the touch, but he worried over Shiro instead.

A week later, they sat on Black’s muzzle, legs hanging over the edge, and they stared up at the stars. “I’m getting tired of ration bars” Shiro had joked. Keith laughed but muttered about not minding them.

They returned to comfortable silence, but Keith was soon anxious to ask “How are you doing?”

Shiro didn’t answer, not at first. He wanted to joke and say “A little hot but I’ll manage.” But he knew it wasn’t the right time. Keith worried too much about him, and at delicate times like these he couldn’t joke with him.

“I’m not sure. I mean, theres something wrong. I can’t feel her anymore,” he said softly, touching Black’s cool metal under his hand. He used to feel the thrum of power under his hand, now he felt nothing. “Zarkon over powered me, took control of Black. But she hasn’t come back. She won’t let me back in.”

Shiro looked down at his hands while he talked, flexing the Galra hand and not for the first time wondered if it could be taken over by druid magic. Was he a danger to his team? Could he even call them his team after all this? He couldn’t protect them, he couldn't lead them. _Not like this_. Shiro hadn’t really thought about it- well he had, but he hadn’t acknowledged the thoughts until now- but he was afraid. afraid of this war, afraid of what he’d become, afraid of what he couldn’t remember, he was so _afraid_. 

Keith wrapped his arms around him, squeezing tighter as Shiro began to shake harder. _What was going to happen to all of them?_

“It’s okay, I’m here,” Keith had told him over and over as Shiro cried.

 

 

Shiro jolted awake (when did he fall asleep?) when Keith had jumped down onto the couch next to him. He groaned and stretched his arms above his head. Shiro rubbed sleep from his eyes to keep himself from looking at the stripe of skin that peeked out from under Keith’s shirt. He slumped back into the cushions next to Shiro, his arm pressing comfortably against the other's.

“How’s training?” Shiro asked, aware of the way Keith favored his ankle. He’d hoped that Keith would take it easy after the gladiator had smashed his hand, but a few days later Keith was back to spending more time with the training bots than with his team members.

Keith eyed him, waiting for him to start something. He’d always had a stubborn streak, especially back in the Garrison when his anger and loneliness fueled most of his actions and he didn’t trust Shiro further than he could throw him (which, Shiro was surprised to find Keith could actually throw him farther than most could, but the idiom still stands). Shiro had to learn how to handle Keith, how to give advice or instruction without making him feel like he was telling him what to do.

“Training’s fine. How was your nap?” He answered sharply, _don’t push him he doesn't want to talk about it._

Shiro was relieved that after all this time he still knew how to read Keith. “I dreamt about the planet.”   

Keith eyed, watching his face carefully. “You okay?” He asked quietly. Keith knew how to read him, too.

“Yeah, just,” he thought for a moment and ran his palm down his face. “I was thinking about the planet. And you. I mean even with a messed up arm, you still pulled your weight. You were hurt worse than I was, yet you did way more than I could.”

Keith flushed and looked away from him, a little smile forming. “I had to take care of myself, in the desert.” He looked back at Shiro, but he could tell he wasn’t seeing _him_. He saw the burning sun and tall plateaus, the long shadows and resilient cacti of the desert he called home. “Getting hurt happened, but I couldn’t let it slow me down. I’m used to taking care of myself. But on the planet it was both of us…”

His eyes had drifted down while he talked, but when Keith paused Shiro looked back up at him. His eyes held something in them, something Shiro wasn’t quite familiar with seeing in Keith’s expressions. There was silence between the two, sitting close on the couch only inches apart. Shiro was aware of every time they breathed together, when their arms brushed each other barely. 

Keith was never the best at explaining his thoughts or reasoning or feelings, but something drove him like it did no one else to take care of people he loved. He’d give up himself to protect and help others. A determination filled his posture, despite his strained muscles that pulled painfully, and he sat up straighter. “On the planet, I had to look out for you, too.” He looked like he meant it just as much now as he did back then.

Warmth grew in Shiro, his heart beat proudly and he could feel it, a phantom of the confidence that Black always filled him with. he couldn't help the grin that stretched his tired face, it'd been too long since he smiled like this. “That’s it,” he said. Keith looked at him confused. “That’s why it’s you.”

They both knew what he meant. The atmosphere around them turned sour with Keith’s expression. Shiro hated tainting any moments he got with Keith, but the fate of the universe came before his feelings. The younger paladin abruptly stood and stormed out of the common room, assumedly to go train some more, and Shiro was alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping to write and publish today's prompt later tonight. thanks for sticking with me and my erratic writing habits.
> 
> let me know of any mistakes please, I beta'd it myself, but I admit that I was lazy about it.


	3. Day 3: Fight me/Love me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a freaking liar.
> 
> I'm really sorry guys but I'm trying as best as I can. I have never done a "_____ week" before and its really stressing me out to write a new chapter every day on top of all my work.
> 
> On the bright side, I feel much better about this chapter than I did the one from yesterday.

Takashi Shirogane was a patient man. He could listen to what others had to say, or wait for them to gain the courage to say it. He could allow an issue to work itself out or he could step in and try to resolve it. Everyone thought of him as a patient and understanding person, but those two virtues had just about run out the fourth time Shiro had caught Keith training despite a serious injury.

He was well past annoyed and was now just angry. So many emotions mixed and churned inside him as he roughly yanked Keith away from the training room. Keith was cursing beside him but sulkily allowed him to half carry him to the infirmary to be treated for _another_ sprained ankle. It was already swelling up, the skin a molten purple and blue, and it hurt brushing against the floor with every other step.

The infirmary doors slid open as they approached, and Shiro not gently dropped Keith into a chair. It was really the smell of antiseptic and sterile instruments that marked the room as the infirmary really than any other land marks. The room looked just like any other room in the castle; blank, nondescript walls and floors, soft teal accents and yellow lights. Farthest away from the door, a row of healing pods against the wall gleamed. Drawers hidden in panels on the walls held medical supplies, bandages, antidotes to mysterious poisons from particular plants that Coran had warned about (no one could remember what those plants were, but they decided to stick to the “don’t eat it if you don’t know what it is” rule.) A few examination tables and chairs were scattered about.

Keith was sitting in one of the extra lounge chairs that had been repurposed to this room. He was sulking again. Shiro really wasn’t in the mood to cater to his foul mood, and with a look at the swollen foot, he turned away from his friend to prepare a wrap. “You know, this wouldn’t happen if you would just _listen_ to me.”

Keith immediately scoffed, “Yeah, thanks captain. I don’t need you telling me how to take care of mysel-“

“Dammnit Keith, would you just shut up?” Shiro’s loud voice suddenly cut in. He'd slammed his hands down against the cool metal table, bandage crumpled in his hands. This one was ruined. “Fuck,” he threw it into a waste chute and returned to the table to start another one. It had to be coated in a strange goo that quickly rid the swelling and numbed the pain.

“You’re not taking care of yourself. You already trained excessively before but now its overkill. How’re we supposed to form Voltron if your-“

“That’s a good question,” Keith bit in. So it was going to be like that. “How _are_ we going to form Voltron? You’re connection with Black is MIA. Allura can pilot if its an emergency, but she can’t be a permanent paladin. You’ve dumped this all on me-“

“Keith you know that if we could-“

“But you don’t know if we can! You won’t even try to establish the connection. Coran hasn’t checked to see if Black’s malfunctioning. No one is trying- _fuck!_ ” He yelled, Keith got antsy when he was angry, and he now jarred his hurt foot. Shiro had to admit he didn’t feel much pity for him in the moment.

He was leaning back against the table, healing wrap finished but forgotten in the moment. He crossed his arms, narrowed his eyes. He couldn't really help the cruelty in his voice, then. “There’s nothing I can do. I don’t expect you to understand what it feels like to be rejected by your lion, but I know. I can’t go back, for reasons we can't explain, okay?”

Shiro couldn’t really remember a time they had ever fought like this. For the most part, Keith and Shiro got along fine. They were close and understood each other, they worked well together. But right now both of them were angry and hurt, confused and scared. No one knew what any of this meant, and they couldn’t waste time in the middle of a war.

Keith had his elbows on his knees now, hands covering his face.

“Keith.”

“Its not me Shiro. I don’t care what you say, it’s not me.”

“We don’t have time to argue anymore. Zarkon could be on his way, some plant could be attacked right now, we don’t have time to deal with this shit.” Shiro’s hands were on his hips, stepping closer towards Keith. In hindsight, that was a mistake, but in the moment he didn’t care. Keith had issues in the past with authority figures, and seeing Shiro approach him like one set him off.

"I’m trying okay? I don’t want this! But I’m trying! I’ve been training, I’ve…” His voice shook as it rose. His hands now gripped the arm rests, nails digging sharply into the white cushion.

“Training, yeah. You’re going to kill yourself at this rate! How pathetic is that? Dying at the hands of your own negligence in the middle of a war.”

“I’m doing what you do! You don’t sleep, you train harder than any of us. If I have to be the black paladin, I have to be stronger. I can’t protect my team, I can’t-“ Keith's throat hurt as he yelled. He was choking now, breath catching in his throat. His hands were in his hair, fumbling and tugging at the locks. A nervous habit Shiro remembered he had back in the Garrison. “I’m not like you, Shiro. I can’t be there for them. _I’m so afraid_. The team will fall apart with me as leader, please Shiro you have to try again!” Keith's voice tampered off quieter as he grew more desperate. He shook and curled in on himself.

“I can’t, Keith. I’m not fit to be the black paladin. I know you can do it though. I _know_ you, I know whats inside.” He was softer now, too, the anger passing and leaving his guilt and frustration at himself. He finally gathered the wrap and medication from the table and crossed the room to where Keith sat. The fight had gone out of him too, he was leaning back limply in the seat, eyes on the ceiling like he was searching for answers. Shiro had stared up at ceilings plenty of restless nights to know that it would never tell you want you wanted.

When Keith spoke again, it was while Shiro was crouched by his feet, carefully wrapping the cool bandage around his ankle, touch soft and gentle. “Shiro…” Shiro looked up at him and waited for him to go on. “I’m scared… of what’ll happen to you.”

He finally looked away from the high ceiling, rolling his head down to look at his old friend. “I can’t do this on my own, I need you. And I’m so scared of loosing you.” He whispered.

Shiro closed his eyes, willing away the sting that threatened tears when he heard the fear in his voice. He pressed his forehead head against Keith’s knee, softly rubbing up and down the calf of his injured leg. He'd do anything to never hear that fear in Keith's voice again. “I’m not going anywhere, I swear.”

They stayed like that for a long time. Neither knew how long precisely. The castle was silent, all the other paladins had gone to bed a long time ago, and the control room where Coran and Allura were no doubt checking systems and planning was too far away to hear them. This close, Shiro could smell the odd detergent the castle used to wash their clothes when they put them in the laundry chutes. He could feel the slight shift of muscle every time his hand passed over it. The over heated skin was starting to cool of, but the swelling would take time to go down.

Keith finally moved to take the recommended dose of healing pills to get to work on repairing the torn ligament. He was silent again for anything minute, idly running his hands through Shiro’s soft hair. He laughed once. “I don’t think we’ve ever had a fight like that.”

Shiro looked up at him, smiling small. He look away though and stood back up. Something needed to be said. If he didn’t, Keith would just go back to what he was doing before. “Keith, you can’t keep training like this. I can’t stand the thought of you hurting yourself over and over again trying to be what you think is a leader. There is more than one type of leader. I want to help you learn how to be the black paladin.”

“But, Shiro…”

“Please, I care about you Keith. So, so much. It hurts seeing you like this. Just… do it for me.”

He was quiet, but didn’t look away from Shiro. Keith kept eye contact, kept whatever connection between them. They both could feel the relief of tension when Keith answered “okay.” It was like an invisible presence that filled every void and controlled every breath was purged from the room. They both visibly sagged, grinning at each other in a secret way, a shared look that couldn’t be shared between any other two people. Neither knew what the look truly meant, or what was to come next, but they would be alright.

For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, idk if you know how weak I am for Shiro loosing his cool. So I was really excited to write a fight between Keith and Shiro.
> 
> my tumblr is edgykeith if you want to come chat


	4. Day 4: Flashback/Reality

Keith understood few things about the castle-ship. For one, who even designed castles to function as ships, or ships to have the capability to dock and act as a castle. Like, what?

Also, it was a little mind boggling to understand that a technology that had been unchanged and untouched for 10,000 years could still be so much more advanced than earth’s.

And for technology that was _so_ advanced, it sure broke a lot. He understood; it’s been a long time and things fell into disrepair while Allura and Coran were in stasis. But to Keith, it seemed that it wasn’t much of an excuse for the castle’s defense barriers to constantly malfunction, or the healing pods to occasionally act up and lock them into cryo-sleep when one of them had just hopped in to fix a pulled muscle.

Today, for example, Shiro had been demonstrating a type of defensive maneuver with a gladiator while the rest of the paladins watched. He had set it for an easy level two, not looking for an actual fight, just a few strikes from the training bot so he could show them how to deflect and reciprocate. The settings had been adjusted so the gladiator would only attack when Shiro gave the command. He was facing the rest of team voltron who were sitting criss-cross applesauce on the ground listening with the gladiator behind him waiting.

Something must have glitched because the bot suddenly charged him, Hunk yelling out “Watch out!”

Shiro turned just as the gladiator reached him, but he wasn’t fast enough to dodge the robot’s fist that contented with his nose. He went down to a knee, cupping his face with a hand, then kicked out his leg to knock its feet out from under it. Pidge quickly called the training program to an end, as Keith and Lance rushed over to Shiro. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” He assured them. “It just caught me by surprise.”

His voice was reassuring, which should have put them at ease, except for the fact that his nose was gushing out blood. Lance immediately said “ew,” which Keith punched him in the shoulder in response.

The red paladin reached a hand out to help Shiro up and offered to take him to the infirmary for an ice pack and some pain meds. The leader looked like he might refuse, but with a worried look from Hunk and an unimpressed look from Pidge, he agreed. “Just go over that first move I showed you with each other. I’ll be right back.”

Something about this seemed too familiar, Keith thought, as he led Shiro through the tall and long halls. And not because just last week Shiro had brought him to the infirmary and then proceeded to yell at him, but something else nagged at his mind.

“Remember that time in the Garrison when we were sparring?”

Shiro was quiet for a moment before huffing a laugh. “We sparred many times.”

“When I kicked you in the nose? You bled all over the training mats.” Keith couldn’t fight the smile that grew as he remembered. They smiled together easily. “I followed you to the nurses office because I felt bad.”

“I don’t know why you bothered to feel guilty, you were mad at me when you kicked me and you were still mad afterwards!”

They both laughed, reminiscing, coming to the infirmary where Shiro hopped up on a table. Keith brought him a warm wet towel, instructing him how to hold it.

“Yeah yeah, I know. I know how to treat a bloody nose.” Keith ignored him and went looking for pain meds. He opened a cabinet with bottles full of colorful pills. He couldn’t remember which ones were for pain, which were antidotes, which were healing, or which were sleeping pills.

“You read Altean?” he mumbled, and grabbed a few bottles to show to Shiro. He squinted his eyes at the labels and took a bottle of green pills. “Okay, let me open it. You keep putting pressure on that.”

“Yes, mom.” Shiro joked, kicking out his leg at Keith as he walked away. Keith shot him a look over his shoulder but didn’t say anything. Things hadn’t changed much from the Garrison. Sure they now were traveling through space at speeds no human transportation could reach, going distances people have only ever dreamed of going, fighting in a war they didn’t sign up for, and piloting giant metal cats; but some things would always be the same. The way Keith doted on Shiro if he so much as got a paper cut, but never pulled his punches if they were sparring. The way Shiro felt more comfortable and more like himself when he was with Keith.

After returning the other bottles to the cabinet, he came back to the table to open and shake out a few pills for Shiro to swallow. He placed them in his hand, careful so he wouldn’t drop them. He then leaned against the table next to shiro, not exactly eager to go back to the training room and work on something Shiro had already taught him long ago.

Keith crossed his arms and looked down at his shoes while Shiro dry swallowed the pills before continuing to clamp his nose. It was silent in the room except for the odd creaking noises every big old castle makes, despite how technologically advanced it was. Something very lonesome and tiresome echoed in every giant home with too many rooms and too little occupants. Keith remembered how the Garrison creaked late at night when he slipped back into his room past curfew after late night runs with Shiro. It seemed so odd that during the day the facility was bustling with noise and people, but eerily silent at night.

At the same time as Keith, Shiro was looking back on those nights he and Keith spent together. They were birthed from the multiple amount of times he found the cadet training himself to exhaustion past curfew. After realizing that nothing he said or did would stop him, a soft spot inside Shiro talked him into helping Keith with his training. He was willing to take the fall if they were caught. A single misdemeanor from the campus golden boy could easily be swept under the rug rather than from a misfit freshman.

Shiro smiled to himself, remembering specifically the night Keith had actually kicked him in the nose. He had been egging him on, admittedly, hoping to make Keith think of something else than his professor that had lectured him that day. Keith was a knife, graceful and smooth, but dangerous if handled incorrectly, and no one knew how to handle him. But Shiro was learning.

He was holding boxing pads on his arms, letting Keith pound away his frustrations. Shiro had been quizzing him on the mechanics of a particular flight maneuver that he had messed up that day and earned him his lecture. Keith’s answers came out rough and ragged between breaths as he continued to punch the pads. Once he had forgotten an answer, a critical part of piloting in the given circumstance, and Shiro smirked at him. “Come on, cadet, you know this.” He taunted. 

In his frustration, Keith had stopped punching and instead swung his foot up and around. Shiro had not been expecting it and took the kick right in the face.

When Shiro had come out oh his memory, he noticed Keith watching him. The were both smiling softly at each other in the quiet hum of the room. By now the bleeding had stopped.

Shiro tossed the rag cross the room straight into a trash bucket. He lifted his arms in success and looked to Keith with a grin. He was now standing in front him, he brought his hands up to Shiro’s face, the latter’s breath quickly catching in his throat.

He didn’t move as Keith closely inspected his nose. “It’s not broken,” he muttered to himself. He grabbed another rag and wet it before returning to gently wipe away the dried blood from Shiro’s face. He stopped when Shiro jumped because his nose was still tender. They were very close together, Shiro could no longer hear anything but the thundering of his pulse in his ears. A strand of loose hair was stuck in Keith’s eyelashes, and Shiro suppressed the need to brush it away.

The chill of the damp rag on his face made it that more obvious each time Keith’s breath brushed across his lips. Keith lowered the rag and he finally looked up to meet Shiro’s eyes. They both froze, looking carefully at each other, a moment pregnant with familiarity and the unknown.

Shiro never before wanted so desperately to cant his head down and lean just a bit closer to brush his own lips against Keith’s. He could feel it in the way his lips slightly parted, how Keith's hands were softly cupping his jaw, but the moment passed. Keith turned away and said “I gotta get back to the team, make sure they’re not killing each other. Thats what a leader would do, right?”

The final question thrown back a little bitterly. Keith was soon out of the room, the door sliding shut and muffling his boots echoing on the floor as he walked away. It brought Shiro back, reminded him they were no longer on earth at the Garrison.

Maybe if they were he would have kissed him. If they weren’t in the middle a galactic war, he would have told Keith how he felt. But he couldn’t distract Keith from his duties, despite how much his heart ached for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, I'm still working on these, just (obviously) not following the scheduling of Shieth Week.
> 
> Let me know of any mistakes!


End file.
